The Old Man was in the Woods. The rain began to fall. A pouring fall rain early. Thunder pealed. The rain said This is how I end July. The Old Man saw the rain and considered it. What a nice respite from the heat of summer. Things change often for the better. Jonathon is writing poems. Poems are good for the soul. Souls need rain. We tend to dryness. We act in the practical now. Harsh words stick in our ears. Imaginations lodge in our hearts. Rain washes them away.

We people of the Earth, want to be better. We see better modeled. Yet in the desert it is hard to enact. Words influence our feelings. Dry words become our world. Hope lay in the puddle along the side of the road. At times it has a mini rainbow in it.

Our lives are prose written in a turgid textbook. We hunger for poetry. Lifting the mundane banality. Seeking to soar with the Northern Cardinal. A glimpse of the big rainbow.

‘The rain has brought welcome relief from the heat,’ Chet said. ‘I have been preparing for school to begin we went to P.N. Hirsch this morning for school clothes,’ Chet continued. ‘I got a backpack for my books,’ Chet noted. ‘It is cool with Peter Max drawings on it. I will be hip this school year,’ Chet laughed. ‘Life is looking up,’ Chet proclaimed!

Calm and quiet is the order of the day. No violence, hate, or marginalization for us. ‘We shall be the Rain People folks who love peace and cathartic contemplation,’ Jane laughed. ‘Bullies disrupt my sense of place,’ Jane continued. ‘Live and let live; do not put your mean thought in my head,’ Jane explained. ‘Art, nature photos, and writing are my sanctuary,’ Jane smiled. ‘Poems speak to my soul, Jane mused. ‘School is beginning soon; peace is what we all want,’ Jane said with tears in her eyes. ‘The Bible says that we will beat our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks; nothing will hurt or destroy in all of my holy mountain,’ Jane quoted. ‘Let that be now before it is too late,’ Jane whispered.